


An Unexpected Anniversary

by Emsiecat



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: A Happy Unexpected Anniversary to you all!, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Happy sappy things, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:15:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6667432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emsiecat/pseuds/Emsiecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Next day, Wednesday, April the 26th, I brought Thorin and his companions to Bag End; with great difficulty so far as Thorin was concerned – he hung back at the last. And of course Bilbo was completely bewildered and behaved ridiculously.” – Gandalf, Unfinished Tales</p><p>To celebrate the day where Thorin and Bilbo first met (coughandfellinlovecough) folk on tumblr have been posting fanworks on this day. I decided to write a few ficlets based on prompts given on the anunexpectedanniversary tumblr page. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Luck

It had begun as such ridiculousness often did these days, with confusion over hobbit culture. 

Bilbo had been seated on the gentle slopes at the base of the mountain twining wildflowers into a small bouquet when Bofur had found him. The Desolation had been healing nicely these past couple of years, so Bilbo felt little guilt in relieving the land of a handful of its flora.

"What you got there then?" 

Bilbo had seemed undaunted by the sudden voice of his friend (who had in fact been making a conscious effort to sneak up on their once burglar to see if he could startle him), which caused Bofur to pout. 

"Just some clovers, white heather… and see, I even found some morning glories climbing up that rock face there. Must be a spot sheltered from the wind elsewise they'd not have grown at all… such a lovely blue they are as well!" 

"Yes, yes lovely," Bofur waved a dismissive hand and Bilbo scowled. "I was meaning to ask what are they for?"

"Luck," Bilbo replied promptly and with a quick, assertive nod of his head. 

"Luck?" 

"Yes, luck," seeing Bofur still wore an expression of polite befuddlement, Bilbo sought to clarify. "Clovers are said to ward off wights and other foul spirits; three leaves are good, but if you can find a four leafed one, well then that is a blessed thing! Then we have the white heather; it is said that wherever it grows on old battlefields that no blood was shed in that spot, so it is fortunate and will bring you luck if picked. As for the morning glories they're supposed to bring peace and happiness, and if you slip the seeds beneath your pillow, your sleep will be free of nightmares." 

"Aye, a restful night is grand and all, but aren't those things poisonous?" 

"Only if you ingest the seeds. This is why I would not recommend it for faunts- er pebbles. For some reason young ones always find a way to eat things they oughtn't."

"So who's the lucky lass- or fellow receiving this lot then?" Bofur needn't have asked, most in the Company knew the soft spot a certain former burglar and their own king held for one another, but the miner has a wicked sense of humour and did so love making his friends squirm. 

To Bofur's surprise there was nary a breath taken nor thought given before Bilbo replied absently, "Thorin of course, he's been so weighed down with responsibility of late that I thought he deserved a little luck."

Bofur hid a grin at the guileless way Bilbo had spoken and stroked his moustache in thought. "You truly think it will bring him luck?" 

"Oh I can't say for sure, none can really," Bilbo hummed softly, fingers gently pulling at the delicate leaves of one of the clovers. "But it can't hurt to try." 

"Unless he decides to try and eat them there morning whatsis-"

"Morning glories, you uncultured clot," Bilbo laughed. "And he's a king of dwarves, not some daft pony! He won't try to eat them." 

"We have gems." 

"Sorry?" Bilbo glanced up from his study of his bouquet at the unexpected change of topic and Bofur grinned, tugging at his earring as he shrugged lazily. 

"Gems, we use certain gems to bring others luck, not flowers." 

"Oh…" Bilbo looked a little crestfallen at that and Bofur was quick to reassure. 

"Thorin will love them though, regal bugger's got more gems than he knows what t' do with; flowers will make a nice change I think." 

Bilbo's answering smile was so full of relief and soft joy that Bofur thought he might just take Nori up on that wager.

 

* * *

 

Thorin had indeed loved the flowers and the gentle warmth tugging at his lips and lighting his eyes when Bilbo had presented them to him had Bilbo feeling as giddy as a tween with their first infatuation.

It had been mere days after giving Thorin his gift that Bilbo began to notice something odd about the dwarves of Erebor however…

He had noticed first whilst browsing the marketplace, a small gaggle of dwarves all bartering over a collection of little brooches.

This in itself would not have been particularly noteworthy, but when Bilbo caught sight of the design, he was left wondering.

Clovers… clovers and tiny bobbing heads of heather, morning glories, miniature sunflowers, and numerous other lucky flowers all captured in minute detail in exquisite gem brooches. 

Bilbo was nothing if not observant, and he knew that this could be no mere coincidence. He stayed his tongue in asking the vendors outright though, and decided to see what happened over the coming weeks.

 

* * *

 

"Flowers, they are all wearing flowers!" Bilbo huffed an incredulous sounding laugh as he threw himself onto the couch in Thorin's quarters and covered his eyes with a melodramatic arm. 

"Greetings to you too, Master Baggins," Thorin's mouth was quirked in amusement as he glanced up from a report he was reading through at his desk. 

"Do you know anything about this?" Bilbo's question was suspicious, his eyes narrowed as he removed his arm to turn and catch Thorin's gaze. 

"I'm afraid I'm rather at a loss as to what you speak of, Bilbo," the dwarf king replied loftily. Bilbo could tell though, Bilbo could _always_ tell. The way Thorin averted his eyes and tugged distractedly on his braid; he was lying. 

"Oh don't you try that nonsense with me," Bilbo was sitting up properly in an instant and wagging a reprimanding finger at the dwarf as if he were one of his young cousins and not a warrior and great leader of his people. "You have something to do with your dwarves' new found love of plant life and I'm going to get to the bottom of it-" 

Thorin raised his hands, a faint grin tracing his lips as he shook his head in denial of Bilbo's accusations. "I confess, I did _know_ about the new er… trend, but it is not through my doing. If you're looking for someone to blame, you'd best go and see Bofur." 

"I should have known…"

"Yes," Thorin's eyes flicked back to his paperwork, a hint of embarrassment colouring his cheeks this time. "After you presented me with that bouquet, our dear friend decided to tell all and sundry of the wondrous luck of hobbit flowers."

"But that's- they're not- that's just ridiculous though! They're not wearing _real_ flowers, they've made them out of gems it- Thorin it completely defeats the purpose!" 

"I thought you might say something like that, it is one of the reasons I have refrained from purchasing a brooch myself… they are quite beautifully made though." 

"Yes, yes I'm not arguing that but it's the principle of the thing, Thorin-" 

Thorin set aside his report and turned to face Bilbo properly, giving him his undivided attention before he spoke again. "Think of it this way. The gems they have used each have significance to us; they are lucky too."

Bilbo, recalling Bofur's words made a small noise of agreement and nodded to show he understood. 

"Besides, you've seen the multitude of folk wearing them; if they all decided to use real flowers, the fields around Erebor would be stripped bare in no time. I personally think this is a rather pleasant compromise… If it helps, you could think of it as a melding of our cultures. A hobbit's flowers and a dwarf's gems brought together to symbolise luck for all." 

Well… when Thorin put it that way, there wasn't really anything Bilbo could say to it. Well save for one thing… 

"You said them not being real flowers was _one_ of your reasons for not purchasing a brooch?" Bilbo's voice held a soft lilt, a question not explicitly asked but Thorin noticed the implication immediately, his cheeks darkening further still. 

"Well the truth is, I do not need I think I need another good luck charm." 

Bilbo frowned. He was not particularly superstitious himself, but he knew that dwarves were wont to be as a rule, and given that the last time Thorin had claimed _not_ to need good luck, things had gone disastrously wrong for them, he felt that perhaps the dwarf might be tempting fate. 

(Even he was guilty of such oversights if he was being honest with himself… 'I do believe the worst is behind us' when a dragon lay ahead… what in the world had he been thinking in uttering _that_?) 

Thorin had correctly interpreted the frown pulling at Bilbo's features and left his seat in order to come and kneel before him, catching the hobbit's attention by gently clasping Bilbo's hands in his own.

"Why would I need another charm when you have granted me more good fortune than any flower or gem?" 

Flushing to the roots of his hair, Bilbo sputtered half-formed denials and arguments, each weaker and quieter than the last in the face of Thorin's sincere countenance. 

"Thorin I'm- I'm just _me_ , I'm not lucky or- or charmed of any of that nonsense."

"Perhaps not, but is putting faith in flowers and gems any wiser? After all what can they achieve?"

"You know Óin would clip you 'bout the ear if he heard you speaking in such a way," Bilbo mumbled, still feeling entirely too warm and flustered to do much else but stare at the dwarf in front of him.

"Oh of course, it is a terrible oversight of me to question the fortuitous powers that lay in rock and plants… I might end up bringing ill will raining down upon the mountain."

Dwarf kings, Bilbo thought with grim good humour, should not be allowed to grin like that and look so charming whilst potentially tempting calamity.

"You will have to save us all I fear," Thorin continued, his grin growing broader and eyes mischievous even though his voice was very soft and oddly shy. "Perhaps you would consider staying here… for good? Just to make sure I do not inadvertently cause the mountain to collapse around our ears you understand."

Finally realising what Thorin was trying to ask of him, Bilbo laughed and pulled his hands free from Thorin's so that he could cup the dwarf's cheeks.

Had they really been dancing around one another for so long that they had to resort to _this_ in order to confess such obvious things? 

"Well, if you think it will help…" Bilbo trailed off, swooping down to press his lips to Thorin's, just to make sure there were no misunderstandings.

Thorin reaching out to pull him off the couch and into his arms was all the assurance he needed.


	2. Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one could probably link in to my 'Healing Tent Kisses' chapter from 'Bagginshield Fluffy February' as it seems quite similar in context... not TOO similar to be boring though I hope!

His mother had told him once; in a voice soft as summer clouds and warm as a hearth fire, that courage was not the absence of fear, but the ability to act in spite of it. 

He had not understood then, young as he was and trembling at the sound of the storm that raged outside. For surely the brave warriors in his stories felt nothing like he did in the face of something frightening. 

Bilbo had hiccupped and sniffled, tremulously speaking these thoughts aloud; only to have his mother laugh, a gentle tuneless sound he adored, and buss the top of his curly head as she insisted in time he would see she was correct. 

His mother was usually right, but at that time as he shivered and shook in her arms like a leaf in the breeze, he had seriously considered it possible that his mother might be _wrong_ about something. Such a notion seemed horrible and peculiar to Bilbo, but he kept quiet about it and squirreled the idea away for later perusal.  

It wouldn't be until the end of a fateful Quest and terrible battle that Bilbo Baggins would realise his mother had been right all along.

 

* * *

 

The healing tent was warm, too warm really; lit with as many a brazier as could be spared and heady with the smell of incense, herbs, and cleansing washes. 

Bilbo found that the oppressive heat made his head swim and skin flush, and the smell of the herbs covering the fetid aroma of sickness caused his eyes to smart and nose stopper up, wriggling with the occasional suppressed sneeze.

He would not leave though, not for all gold in Erebor nor all the tea in the Shire. 

Thorin was injured and Thorin was here, so here is where Bilbo would stay for as long as they would allow him… and even then, if any passing healer revoked his welcome, he might just slip on his ring and stay longer still. 

"You are a nuisance, truly you are," such words had never been spoken with more love and care despite their bluntness. 

Bilbo wrung out the washcloth into the bowl of clean water situated at his elbow and gently dabbed at the dwarf king's forehead, which was as hot as dragon flame. 

Whilst Thorin was apparently out of immediate danger from his wounds, it was almost inevitable that he had developed a fever due to the undue stress his body was under and lingering infection that Óin and Tauriel were working in tandem to oust from a great deal of their patients.

"Completely daft too," Bilbo continued his soft reprimand. "Imagine charging into battle when you've had nary a wink of sleep in days, barely any food or water, and had just managed to shake an awful sickness of the mind. If ever there were a more foolhardy creature, I've yet to meet him… or her… Well- perhaps Kíli might give you a run for your coin… Tauriel too come to that. You should have seen the way she launched herself at them orcs when she thought Fíli and Kíli slain, like one of them great mountain cats she was." 

Bilbo was all too aware of his tendency to ramble when nerves got the better of him, but so long as nobody was around to redirect his attention or tell him to hush, he would continue. It was a coping mechanism… or so his dear old da had claimed.

"They're fine, fine of course," Bilbo was quick to reassure as if Thorin had asked a question; surely, the way he twisted beneath the heavy blankets and the furrowing of his brow spoke of distress, and Bilbo was loathe to let the dwarf think his nephews might be dead. 

It was the truth… well perhaps they weren't 'fine', but they were alive and responding well to the healing offered to them by both Óin and the dedicated perseverance of the two elves; Tauriel and that prince, Legolas if Bilbo remembered rightly. 

"I just mean to say that you're all such a bunch of blasted fools!" Bilbo groused, gentle hands belying how he truly felt. "Brave though… very brave. If I could burgle just a little of that for myself- well, I'd have made a far more useful member of the Company." 

"You have courage enough for five dwarves, Master Baggins; you need no more than you have already." 

Bilbo jumped, an embarrassing little noise escaping his throat as he came back to himself from his dazed wonderings to find that Thorin had actually woken. His voice was hoarse, lips pulled back into an uncomfortable rictus as he clearly sought to give Bilbo a reassuring smile through his hurts, but the dwarf's eyes were clearer than Bilbo expected what with the high doses of pain relief Óin had him on, and that in itself gave the hobbit some measure of comfort. 

Thorin had woken a number of times before, but each time he had either been in too much pain or alternatively too highly dosed for there to be any hope of coherent conversation. 

"Thorin," Bilbo's voice was oddly breathless, as if the mere sight of the dwarf awake and lucid again had stolen all air from his lungs, and Bilbo quickly cleared his throat attempting to regain his composure. 

"Bilbo," Thorin's pained grin softened into something indulgent, though Bilbo half wished it had not… it reminded him too keenly of the smile Thorin had graced him with atop Ravenhill when he had thought that- … 

"Hush now, you are supposed to rest, healer's orders," Bilbo murmured quietly, dampening the cloth again. 

"It is difficult to remain quiet when I hear you speaking such nonsense," Thorin replied, voice firm despite the exhaustion Bilbo could sense behind it. 

"And what nonsense would that be? If you are trying to contest just how reckless you and your kin are, I'm afraid we have the proof right here," Bilbo replied primly, tapping a very gentle finger to Thorin's tightly bandaged mid-section.

"Not that," Thorin shook his head, the movement stiff and sluggish. "The part where you claim to wish for more bravery. As I said not moments ago; you do not need more, you've more than enough." 

"I- well that- that's just ridiculous! I'm not _brave_ , I was scared witless out there… have been for most of the journey if truth be told. Not to mention I tried to take the cowards' way out… bartering the stone for-" 

"Do not!-" Thorin's voice was sharp and he grasped Bilbo's wrist when the hobbit started, the action unfailingly tender despite how abruptly he had spoken. He was quick to quieten his voice once more, almost as if he feared scaring Bilbo off. "Do not call yourself a coward in that, Bilbo. Please… you were the only one with enough courage to do what was _needed_. Never- do not ever think that bartering the stone was an act of cowardice, it was perhaps the crowning moment in a long list of brave deeds you have accomplished."

Bilbo breathed out, the sound shaky, but he did not pull away and for that, Thorin was grateful. 

"You may have been afraid each time you accomplished those deeds, but you did them regardless. That speaks of more courage than any battle-ready dwarf can boast of." 

"What do you mean?"

Thorin smiled again as Bilbo let his gaze meet his own; there was no fear there, no anger or hate or anything else Thorin had dreaded, simply worry and warmth, and no small amount of confusion given their topic of conversation. 

"I mean to say that any warrior can charge into battle if they do not fear hurt or death, but it takes a rare kind of bravery for another to do the same if they are terrified of both prospects." 

Slow understanding began to bloom in Bilbo's eyes, and the colour tingeing his cheeks could not really be blamed solely on the heat of the healer's tent now. 

"You- you think that my deeds have been courageous? Truly?" 

From anyone else, Thorin might have suspected false modesty, but he had grown to realise that for all Bilbo had a sharp tongue and wicked wit, he was actually rather uncertain of his own merits and questioned his quality quite frequently.

"I do, yes. You may ask any member of our Company if you do not trust my word and they will assure you of the same." 

"I trust you," the words were barely whispered, and Thorin dared hope that perhaps the implication of those words were not for this instance alone… that perhaps there was hope still… 

"Thank you," it took some courage of his own for Thorin to extricate his hand from beneath the blanket, the feeling of the appendage too heavy with barely shaken sleep, and gently entangle his fingers with Bilbo's. That the hobbit did not pull away but rather smiled, bright as a sunrise, and clasped Thorin's hand a little tighter in response caused the dwarf's heart to flutter pleasantly.

"My mum told me something once; I believe you just reminded me of it." 

"And what was it that Belladonna Baggins told her Bilbo?" Thorin's smile was growing sleepy, but he was determined to stay awake and talk with the hobbit for as long as he could. 

"That courage is not the absence of fear, but the ability to act in spite of it… I couldn't understand then when she told me, I presumed she was wrong… but I'm starting to think maybe she was right after all." 

"Good," Thorin mumbled, eyelids heavy. "Because she _was_ right." 

"I believe such a phrase works for you as well," Bilbo hummed and had begun gently working the snarls from Thorin's matted hair with dextrous fingers. 

Thorin was not sure when things had started to shift in this way, but he was more than willing to let it continue. 

"How so?"

"You have feared things too, I know you have, and still you have triumphed over them."

Thorin wanted to disagree, but Bilbo's fingers in his hair were a compelling argument to stay his tongue; besides if he denied Bilbo's words he would only be branded a hypocrite. Who was he to deny the wise words of a hobbit, after all? 

Courage and wisdom, blended in measure, Thorin thought affectionately as he drifted half asleep and Bilbo chuckled above him as he stroked his hair; perhaps he had spoken the endearments aloud without meaning to.

There would be time enough to discuss such things later though. For now, Bilbo urged Thorin to rest again, and warned him that Óin would be most upset if he found him awake and talking when he was supposed to be healing. 

Thorin nuzzled into a soft palm and finally let himself sleep and if both hobbit and dwarf were courageous enough to consider a future together, they would be happy to find it would become reality given time.


	3. Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit late I'm afraid, sorry! I had my birthday and lots of wonderful livestreams to watch so I got rather distracted from writing. Here is the next chapter though~

"I always worry that it is too slow, but Óin assured me this is usual for your folk." 

The odd little statement had been spoken sleepily and apropos of nothing. Bilbo often did this; launched into a conversation without giving the dwarf any prior knowledge of what the subject he wished to discuss might be about, it certainly kept Thorin on his toes when conducting small talk with their burglar at any rate. It was a rather endearing propensity he was quickly becoming accustomed to. 

"And what riddles does our hobbit weave this time?" Thorin's voice was a quiet, equally sleepy rumble that reverberated through his chest and into the waiting ear of the hobbit resting against him. 

Healing had been slow, painfully slow in Thorin's impatient opinion, but his wounds had now knitted enough that Óin would not huff and bluster whenever he walked in and caught Bilbo curled up at Thorin's side with his head tucked beneath the king's chin. 

Such was their current position, and Bilbo had been quiet for such a long time that were it not for the way he gently traced patterns over Thorin's bandaged chest and stomach with an absent finger, the dwarf might have thought him sound asleep. 

"Your heart," Bilbo clarified and pressed his ear a little closer to where it beat within Thorin's breast. His eyes closed and finger now tapping a rhythm in time to the beat as if to illustrate his point to the dwarf. "It is far slower than any heart has a right to be. It honestly worried me at first." 

"It- it beats at a normal rate, Bilbo," Thorin frowned, befuddled. Though he could not help the smirk that stole over his features as he added, "In fact I would wager it always beats a little faster in your presence… interesting how that happens."

Bilbo snorted and lightly smacked his shoulder before bracketing his hands on the mattress either side of the dwarf and pushing himself up so he could frown at Thorin properly, hovering over him.

"Don't tease, it was a legitimate concern! Especially with you injured, I kept thinking that perhaps- well… but Óin assured me the rhythm was fine and strong, but mark my words Thorin it is _slow_ , by the reckoning of a hobbit at least." 

Thorin blinked up at their burglar, matching the hobbit's frown with one of his own. It was a frown of self-recrimination, he had unwittingly worried the hobbit it seemed, and so sought to apologise by reaching up to tenderly stroke a thumb across Bilbo's cheek and push some wayward curls back behind a pointed ear. 

Bilbo saw the gesture for what it was and let his frown soften into a flash of a smile, quick and bright. 

"So you are saying that hobbits' hearts naturally beat faster?" 

"Precisely that, yes," Bilbo nodded as Thorin tilted his head questioningly against his pillow, and Bilbo took a moment to admire him. For even essentially bed-ridden and still healing, he was rather fine to look upon. 

And Bilbo felt his own fool heart might be guilty of speeding up and tripping along when in this dwarf's presence, much as Thorin had claimed his did around Bilbo himself.

"May I hear it?" 

Bilbo's eyes widened minutely at the sincere request and he realised then that although he had pillowed his head upon Thorin's chest a number of times since the battle and their subsequent reconciliation and confession of their true feelings, Thorin in turn had never rested his head on Bilbo's. 

In truth Bilbo's actions had been in part a desperate and almost childish comfort, a way for him to make sure Thorin stayed alive and well even as he tried to find much needed sleep. Long past was the time to worry, but worry Bilbo did all the same, and listening to Thorin's heart beating strong (if unusually slow) beneath his ear was as soothing as any lullaby. 

"Of course you may." 

And really, what other reply would he have given? For Thorin's eyes were so imploring and his smile so soft and achingly grateful, that Bilbo felt the daft old dwarf could probably ask _anything_ of him and he would feel compelled to give it. 

_Thank the stars Thorin is not in the habit of abusing such a power_ , Bilbo thought with wry good humour and moved away from his studious hovering above the dwarf king so that he could lie beside him properly, beckoning him closer. 

Thorin fidgeted and moved, wincing at the odd pull in his wounds or the ache in his limbs, until he situated himself comfortably, half resting on Bilbo with an ear pressed to his chest. 

Eyes that had fluttered closed initially with a contented sigh, opened again quickly as Thorin tried to turn his head to look at Bilbo in surprise. 

"You say mine is slow, but yours is far too quick, surely." 

"No, not in the slightest," Bilbo's voice was just as deliciously comforting as his fingers through Thorin's hair and the dwarf settled again immediately. "This is a normal heartbeat for a hobbit." 

"If you're quite certain…" 

Bilbo laughed at that, finding amusement in how his own previous concerns were now mirrored by Thorin. 

"I think I know my own heart, you can trust me in this." 

Thorin's eyes had fallen closed again and Bilbo was rather taken with how entranced he looked as he listened. 

"It really is quicker than a dwarf's. It is a fleeting, but strong thing; like a bird perhaps." 

"Just don't liken it to a rabbit or a mouse, I'm quite tired of those comparisons," Bilbo warned sternly, though there was a smile in his voice.

"I shall do my utmost not to torment you with them," Thorin mumbled and nuzzled closer. "I confess this is rather comfortable, I'm afraid I might have to stay here."

Bilbo grumbled, though his ears felt warm and he was having a hard time biting back a pleased grin as he wrapped his arms around his dwarf and conceded. "If you must; it is only fair after all. I've been listening to your heart for a good few weeks now, seems only right I allow you to do the same." 

"Good," Thorin replied stoutly, though it seemed he might already be drifting off. "I think this might become one of my favourite sounds."


	4. Growth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not quite as happy with this one as the others, but I felt like a little introspection was important to have in a chapter titled 'growth'. I wanted to write more about Thorin's growth too, but didn't want to make it TOO long or repetitive.

Bilbo distinctly remembered the long ago evening at his father's knee when he had been told that to gain years and wisdom meant to grow as a hobbit, and that growth was important. 

The fire in the hearth had been warm and welcoming, the air outside chilly and rich with the scents of wet earth and leaves, distant bonfires, and the coming of winter. His mother had been seated across from them darning a hole in the elbow of one of Bilbo's shirts (a growing hobbit as adventurous as little Bilbo was prone to frequent stains and rips and tears in his clothes, so simply patching them up made more sense than wasting coin on new items until he outgrew them). 

Bilbo had been curled on the rug, leaning against his father's legs as he read a book, and Bungo had grinned at the look of rapt attention writ on Bilbo's features and spoken about 'growth'. 

The young faunt had been confused. Apart from growing up and out, how else would anyone grow? Bilbo was who he was and nothing would change that he had proclaimed firmly. 

Belladonna had laughed and Bungo had fondly rolled his eyes and tried to explain. Unfortunately, in the single-minded determination of the young, Bilbo had found his book far more interesting than his father's shared wisdom and so had barely heard a word of what he said. 

And so, he had quite forgotten it. That was until of course he grew older. 

He had heard words spill from a wizard's lips that were so much like a premonition of things to come and an echo of his father's voice from years prior, that he felt a chill race down his spine and had no choice but to heed those words this time. 

"-and if you do come back, you will not be the same." 

Bilbo had not done much 'growing' since the death of his parents. Indeed, he had withered like a plant thirsting for water, like an old soul succumbing to age. He had lost his mother's sense of adventure and become staid and 'respectable' and had clung to every hobbitish sense of propriety and prejudice that had always left his mother decidedly unimpressed. 

He _knew_. 

And what he _knew_ was that outsiders were dangerous, adventures were uncomfortable, gardening was a fine and perfectly adequate hobby, wizards were suspicious, food had to be the best quality to be of any worth or enjoyment, he was perfectly happy as a bachelor, and the Shire was the only place he would ever wish to be. 

Usually those that feel they know the most need to grow the most, and such was true for Bilbo. 

Therefore, it was quite by chance and the will of a wizard, that Bilbo Baggins found himself forced to 'grow'. 

What Bilbo _knew_ was quite turned on its head over those coming months. Dwarves were no more a danger than fellow hobbits. Indeed, they were all of them fine fellows, if a little rough around the edges. Strong and courageous, loyal, honest, and friendly and quite without realising it, Bilbo slowly came to love them as a family.

Adventures _were_ uncomfortable make no mistake. Some days held so much danger and little sleep and lack of food that Bilbo considered turning back for home on numerous occasions. However, just as Bilbo began to feel vindicated in his thoughts on adventures, he suddenly found himself starting to crave more. Each day being woken by the sunrise or birdsong, by rain or dwarves' boisterous antics was quickly becoming something he could grow to enjoy. He found that he actually longed to travel further and see more, more, more of the world with each league that passed beneath his furry feet. Mountains and rivers and wide grassy plains, ancient ruins and elves and interesting folk they encountered. It was rather a surprising revelation, but Bilbo grudgingly accepted it. 

Then there was Gandalf; his first assumption of 'suspicious' gave way to more flattering assessments of 'wise', 'kind', and 'quite fun to speak with actually'. True, the old meddler was as mysterious as they came, but Bilbo found himself trusting Gandalf implicitly and he decided that 'suspicious' was no longer an epithet he could use to describe someone who was quickly becoming a firm friend. 

The fare they ate on the road was not up to Shire standards at all that much was true, and the meals were far fewer than a hobbit would like. However, it wasn't all bad. Bilbo learnt to appreciate meals that were hard worked for, he realised that simpler dishes were sometimes the most comforting especially when one was sore from a day of travelling, and he learnt too that a meal shared with others was sometimes the kind of meal that made one feel the most full and content. 

Bilbo often sat before their little campfires with a tin mug full of weak tea warming his hands and thought about these things as they travelled, and he was slowly coming to realise that his father's long ago words were true; growth was important. 

And if he had been wrong about all his previous assumptions… maybe there were a few others he should reconsider too. 

A certain dwarf king for instance… and the slow bloom of _something_ that had begun in his chest over the last few weeks which he had steadfastly sought to ignore (he _knew_ he was a happy bachelor after all). 

And… perhaps Bag End didn't have to be the _only_ place he would ever wish to live. 

Selfishness gave way to selflessness, timidity became a cautious sort of bravery, needs replaced wants, and growth replaced prejudice.

Further adventures were had; battles were fought and won… 

Five years to the day of his starting the quest, Bilbo woke wonderfully ensconced in blankets and the arms of a dwarf king. 

There was plenty that still needed to be done in Erebor, but Bilbo had found a little time for hobbies. He still enjoyed gardening of course. Indeed, Thorin had gifted him with a little terrace of his own in which to plant anything he wished. However, Fíli and Kíli had started showing him the joys of smithing and jewellery making too. Therefore, he supposed maybe his last assumption that gardening was the best hobby for a hobbit was quite incorrect as well. 

In the end, perhaps he had not known as much as he had thought he did.

Smiling as he buried his face into the crook of Thorin's neck and whispered a 'good morning', Bilbo cast his mind back over how many things had changed, and how much the dwarf beside him had changed too since their first meeting. 

Perhaps there was something to this 'growing' after all.


	5. Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here is the last prompt fill for this year's 'An Unexpected Anniversary'. I hope you enjoyed them~

There were a few dwarves amongst the many who claimed to be able to see events which had not yet come to pass. 

It was a rare gift, rare and oft met with scepticism. Owing perhaps to the unscrupulous number who tried to hoodwink others into believing they had said gifts when in fact they did not.

Thorin had always viewed those claiming to be able to see the future with a healthy dose of distrust. Perhaps it was because he had seen too many folk try to dupe his grandfather and the court when he had been young in Erebor, or maybe he was just naturally cynical of such things. However, there were times when Thorin wished keenly that he could boast such ability, or failing that at least _know_ someone who truly did. 

The implications were, after all, wondrous. They might have had a foretelling of Smaug's arrival and so had more time to prepare or maybe even prevent the attack completely. 

He may have been able to see every political issue that would dog his steps whilst trying to aid his people to rebuild their tattered lives in Ered Luin. 

Their Quest to reclaim Erebor certainly would have gone smoother if Thorin or someone in his Company could have foreseen every problem they would encounter along the way. Time, energy, coin, and equipment could have been saved; not to mention their own suffering. True, old Óin did have a little experience where such things were concerned, but the elderly dwarf had chosen his vocation as healer long ago, and so his attempts at foretelling events without proper training were… woolly at best. 

He might have seen the sickness coming and vanquished it sooner. The battle could have had far fewer lives lost to it. 

Yes, to see the future would have been very useful. 

However, Thorin could not help but feel that _not_ seeing certain things coming was a gift in itself. 

Had he foreseen Gandalf's plan to include Bilbo amongst their number, would his old prejudices have not tried to prevent his inclusion? Quite possibly, and the turn of the tide and the change in the flow of events from there could have been more disastrous without the aid of their hobbit.

Had he seen just how much he would come to care for their burglar, would he not have tried to shy away from it? At first through his dismissive nature of the soft, fussy creature, and later concern for his safety would have prevented him from reaching out and accepting the affection Bilbo was so willing to grant him. 

If he could have seen just how happy he would be with a hobbit by his side, would that not have increased tenfold the guilt he felt following the sickness? 

No, for all foresight was a useful tool in some respects, in others Thorin felt it would probably hinder and cause pain.

There was a reason the foretellers of his race were often cautious, burdened individuals. Reasons why those who read portents and scried for information often found themselves interpreting the future incorrectly and thus being shunned. 

Time was a fickle thing, it ebbed and flowed and passed as it pleased and even those who could accurately read it and attempt to change outcomes for the better were often left unhappy with the results as circumstances shifted around them differently than expected. 

Now, with Bilbo curled beside him and his head resting on his shoulder. Thorin could safely say that even though he would have loved to foreseen the bad to try to prevent it, he was happiest that he had not seen the good. 

It was rather like a pleasant gift, a surprise, he mused as he nuzzled Bilbo's hair; feeling undeniably comfortable and content in the parlour of Bag End. Had his past self seen how he would gladly give up a hard won throne to go and live in the Shire with a hobbit, the then exiled prince might have been horrified. 

This Thorin though, was utterly happy with matters as they stood. He would not change this turn of events for anything in the world. 

"What are you brooding over now," Bilbo mumbled, attention drawn from the book in his lap by the silent contemplation of his husband.

"The future, or rather how different things might be now had someone told me what was to be."

Bilbo laughed and set aside his book to give the dwarf his undivided attention. "Foretelling, eh? Dangerous business that, best to keep well out of it; all the stories I've read on it always end so… messily." 

"Indeed, I came to the same conclusion myself."

"Good to hear there's some sense in that head of yours after all then," the hobbit teased. 

"Insufferable creature."

"Hm, and yet you love me so," Bilbo sing-songed. "If you'd foreseen this, I expect the old you would have run for the hills." 

"It is still an option," Thorin shot back with a grin. "A king- even a former king shouldn't have to suffer such cheek." 

"True, but the suffering is equally balanced by excellent food and the fact that you find me so charming." 

Thorin snickered; Bilbo always had a retort for everything. "If I could see the future I might win these little verbal battles of ours more often."

"I'd hardly call them 'battles', but I _am_ flattered that you concede to losing so often that you feel you would need some unfair advantage in order to win." 

Thorin bit his lip to prevent himself laughing outright, he dare not let the hobbit know just how witty he found his sly little comments or he really _would_ be insufferable. 

Bilbo tugged lightly on one of Thorin's braids in order to draw him closer. "So then, if Thorin could see the future, what do you think he would see in store for us." 

Deciding to play along, Thorin closed his eyes and furrowed his brow affecting a look of deep concentration before speaking in a faraway sort of voice as if half in a dream. 

"I see a walking holiday to Ered Luin in the coming year, and plenty of blackberry pies made for certain dwarf. The hobbit making them thinks his dwarf deserves them after doing such a fine job of weeding the garden." 

Bilbo snorted before leaning up to press a kiss to a bearded cheek, the action so quick and sudden that it caused Thorin to startle and open his eyes again. "Didn't see that coming though did you." 

"No… I did see this though." Thorin swooped down quick as a flash in order to pin the hobbit to the couch and mercilessly tickle his sides. 

With laughter ringing in his ears, Thorin decided that seeing the future was not something he much cared for after all. Now that things were settled in Erebor and everyone he cared for was content and happy, the only thing that mattered was the here and now.


End file.
